


beseeching fires

by galacticdrift (Ancalime)



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Gen, zombies run secret santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 08:33:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2844677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ancalime/pseuds/galacticdrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Janine and Sara, and Abel's first Christmas. My Zombies Run Secret Santa gift, for <a href="http://briarrose.tumblr.com/">briarrose</a>, mashing up a couple of her prompts ("Anything with Janine and Sara" and "Holiday traditions at Abel").</p>
            </blockquote>





	beseeching fires

"You know, it's getting on toward Christmas."

"I am aware, Ms. Smith." Janine didn't look up from her work, rewiring a radio with an ancient soldering iron and steady hands the envy of any surgeon.

"We should do something to celebrate, get the whole township together."

At this, Janine did look up, her brows drawn close together in a mix of confusion and suspicion. "I wouldn't have thought you would be the type to suggest some kind of traditional gathering for the holidays, the state of the world being what it is."

"We all need distractions, reminders that the world isn't always going to be terrible and dark." Sara lifted a shoulder as she leaned against the door frame. "Or at least, the _hope_ that the world isn't always going to be terrible and dark."

"Even if that's a false hope?" Janine looked back down at the radio, dropping a delicate bead of solder in place to secure a wire to the circuit board.

"Even if." Sara paused. "It's not, though. You know that, right? I may not be there to see it-- you may not be there to see it-- but this isn't the end of humanity. We're too bloody stubborn."

A ghost of a smile passed across Janine's face. "Very well. I suppose you're right. I'll discuss the matter with Major de Santa."

\--

"It's a waste of resources."

"Well, you said we couldn't run the generator or use the solar panels for something as frivolous as Christmas lights, so I thought-- real candles! They way they used to do it!"

"Do you realize what a fire hazard such an enterprise would be?" It wasn't even noon and Janine could feel a headache coming on already -- and Sam Yao's wheedling about setting up a Christmas tree lit with _real candles_ wasn't helping one bit.

"Not if we set it up in the courtyard of the farmhouse, that nice big clear area with the well right there. It'd be totally safe!"

"It's still a waste of resources. Are you going to send /runners/ out to chop down a tree and bring it in?"

Sam's guilty expression answered the question before he ever opened his mouth. "Yang and Kytan volunteered!"

"So before you bothered to actually get my approval for this misguided scheme, you already started telling people about it?"

"Just a few of the runners, to see if they'd be interested."

Janine made a disgusted noise. 'A few of the runners' meant the whole runner corps was aware of Sam's plan at this point, and likely half the rest of the township. The idea might as well be carved in stone.

"Where do you think you're going to obtain a suitable stock of candles? Which, I remind you, are critical emergency supplies." She fixed her sternest look on Mr. Yao.

"I was thinking about that and I know everyone's got some odds and ends, little candles that haven't burned all the way down but aren't gonna last much longer. I know, I know even the tail ends are important, but I've got a plan."

_Famous last words_ , Janine did _not_ say out loud. Repressing a sigh, she raised her eyebrows expectantly. "And are you going to share this plan, Mr. Yao?"

"Wait, are you really-- I mean, yes! Cameo, you know, Runner Thirteen? She used to keep bees before the gray flu. She told me about it and I asked her to keep an eye out for any hives in the area we could harvest from. Honey, and--" Sam's expression was triumphant, his hands drumming on an imaginary drum set. "Beeswax! We can make our _own_ candles to replace the ones we use up."

As plans went, it was far from Sam's worst. It would probably, in fact, work out just fine. Janine let out a sigh, her shoulders sagging, and nodded. "Very well, Mr. Yao. You may have your candle-lit Christmas tree."

Sam's fist pump drew surprised looks from several of the residents passing by.

\--

Habit had Janine awake before dawn, despite the fact that she'd been up late into the night putting out yet another fire -- though not a literal fire this time, thank God. They'd lost a dozen tents to the last one, even small as it had been.

She went through her morning routine while the kettle heated up and the tea steeped; sit-ups and push-ups in a familiar rhythm that kept her grounded. Nothing fancy, nothing that required anything but her own body and enough space to move it. Some things remained as unyielding and unchanging as bedrock, for bedrock was a part of their purpose.

The sky was still dark when she finished and her tea finished brewing. Janine poured it into a thermos and wrapped herself in a blanket, climbing up to the top story of the farmhouse and clambering out onto the roof. If she slipped and fell, she would break at best a leg and at worst her neck, but it was worth it to breathe the icy air, to see the few dim lights of the township below, and to wait for the dawn.

There was a creak behind her a few minutes later and Sara Smith appeared, bundled up against the cold in a proper coat, hat, and scarf, in contrast to Janine's enveloping comforter.

"Mind if I join you for a bit?"

"Not at all." They sat in silence for a while, looking to the east as the sky started to lighten.

"We've made it through the longest night." Cryptic as usual, even when they talked about mundane matters.

"Beg pardon?"

"Winter solstice. The shortest day, and the longest night."

"I-- hadn't realized. I lose track of the days." Janine sighed. It was increasingly hard to remember things like months, and weekdays, and holidays, and all the other arbitrary ways people had of marking time, when they were scrabbling for survival day in and day out.

"From here on out it gets better."

A dubious huff of laughter escaped her.

"Don't make that face at me, young lady. You're up here waiting for the sun to rise just as I am."

\--

The tree was nearly ten feet tall. Janine didn't want to know where Yang and Kytan had found it, or how long it had taken to chop down, or how they'd gotten it back to Abel -- though one side of it looked a bit ragged and worse for wear, as if dragged through dirt and over rubble, so she could imagine well enough.

She also didn't want to think about how precarious it must have been to light up the random assortment of candle-ends, held to the branches by scraps of wire and tinfoil. She suspected Simon's involvement, after seeing him jog by bearing a folding chair and a particularly satisfied grin not too long ago.

"Stop that." Sara Smith appeared out of the crowd and clicked her tongue.

"Stop what?"

"Lurking about and glaring, Worrying about what's going to go wrong."

" _Someone_ must."

"Later."

Janine let herself lean back against the wall of the farmhouse. "All right."

Somewhere in the crowd she could hear Evan Deaubl, _Marley was dead: to begin with_ , and an answering chorus of rapt oohs from Abel's younger set. The candle-light flickered on faces pinched and haggard that somehow were all managing to smile at each other for one night, and even when she concentrated, the murmur of the crowd was close and constant enough to block out even the ever-present moan of the zombies outside the gates.

"Merry Christmas, Ms. de Luca."

"Merry Christmas, Ms. Smith."


End file.
